Whiskey Lullaby
by nonchalant confession
Summary: This story is inspired by a song of the same name. The war has been over for 12 years. Gale Hawthorne and Katniss Everdeen are no longer friends, a reality that Gale has had difficulty dealing with from day-to-day. He turns to the bottle, his only reprieve. Will he rise above it or will it be his greatest downfall?


**This story is based off a song by the same title. A little darker than my usual stuff. Enjoy.**

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Chapter 1

They were in another argument, the same argument really. Katniss Everdeen was shouting at him, refusing to even have a civil conversation. Being cordial flew out of the door ever since Coin dropped that bomb he designed.

"You did this!" she shouted, pushing him away to increase the space between them.

"Catnip…" he murmured.

"It was your bomb, I know it. You showed it to me in District 13…it did exactly what you said it would!" she bellowed, her voice amplified by the tall ceilings of her room in the President's Mansion.

"I didn't know they were dropping it, I swear Katniss. Even if I did, I never would have thought that she would be there." he pleaded.

"She's dead and I'll never forgive you for it." she said, walking closer towards the window

"Catnip, please." he begged her one more time rubbing the side of her arm. He could feel her cringe at his touch. A shock of pain traveled through his body. He loved her. He wanted her so badly. Her reaction only confirmed that they couldn't be together—not now.

"Gale, what are you still doing here?" she muttered in despair.

"I…I…lo—" he started. Before he could finish the statement, he was hoisted back to reality. His head rested on a stack of papers on his desk and he could feel his assistant gently nudging him.

"Commander Hawthorne." she repeated over and over until she was sure he was alert.

"Bess." he said snapping up. "Bess, what are you doing here?"

"You told me to see you before I go." she said with innocent eyes. Whatever it was that he wanted to see her about was far from his mind. The only thought he had was of Katniss, the girl he had lost long ago.

"Oh…um, you may leave for the evening. Sorry to have kept you so long." he apologized as he caught the time on the clock. Most employees were long gone by now.

"It's ok sir." she started, averting her eyes to the ground as she wore a sheepish expression. "Sir, I know it's none my business but you were saying her name again in your sleep." Her eyes darted to Gale then back to the floor. He felt a little embarrassed to be discovered by his assistant, sleeping and murmuring Katniss' name.

"Yeah, that happens." he said quietly.

"She was your friend, wasn't she?" she asks, not prying like the others did when mentioning Katniss. She seemed to be genuinely concerned for him. It made sense. She had been working for him for about 3 years now.

"_Was_ being the operative word." he said with a sigh. "Let's get out of here Bess. I've sure you have people waiting for you." he said grabbing his coat from the coat rack by the door.

"No, not really." she said walking out to the reception area. He immediately regretted saying that. He knew her story. She was orphaned in that last attack on the Capitol, the one where his bomb was dropped. She lived by herself in the apartment she inherited from her parents once she reached legal age. They walked out of the building into the cold evening. It was winter and the sun had long set. They walked side by side, towards home.

"Commander—" she started.

"You can call me Gale. We're not at work." he said with a little laugh.

"Gale." she said, her mouth unfamiliarly trying it out. "Maybe if you called her you could fix things."

"Calling her won't change anything. I doubt I'd get two words in before I'd hear the click of her phone."

"Still it wouldn't hurt." she commented. They stopped at the corner, where their routes diverged. He gave her a nod and watched her from the corner to make sure she got in safe to her building.

He then continued to home, to his empty apartment. He hated living by himself. He hated being in the Capitol, walking down the streets that held some of his worst memories. He was doing it for her though, to prove that he was a good person and the he did care about the citizens of Panem. It didn't seem to matter to her. She hadn't returned any communication in response to letters he sent and the calls he made. She had forgotten about him, moved on with her life. He still got updates through the calls from his mother. She's still with Peeta Mellark, something he never expected to last.

The words that Bess had said kept looming inside his head. Maybe he should try to call her once more. It had been years since his last attempt. He rushed to his side table drawer and pulled it out, rummaging for the piece of paper with her number on it. After a few minutes of searching, he found it. He set it on top of the table and tried to steady his shaking hands as he dialed the number. There was a ring. Then another one. It was even later in District 12. He doubted she'd even pick up. On the fourth ring, he heard a click and her voice on the other end saying, "Hello?" He sat there silently unable to speak. Her voiced sounded more mature but still had that cadence to it. She then asked if anyone was there. He was too paralyzed to speak, unsure what he should even say. There was a long silence, followed by a click on the other line.

He couldn't believe he chickened out like that. He knew he couldn't call back. She'd know it was him the first time. He'd have to try again…some other time. He sat there in the deafening silence. It was too quiet in this place. He knew if he stayed there, it just lead to lots of thinking…something he didn't want to do at the moment. He gathered the papers he had removed from his drawer. As he did so, a small piece of paper fell to the ground. He tucked away the papers and then retrieved it.

It was a picture of her that he had clipped from a magazine article that was published shortly after the war. The image captured her perfectly, looking very stoic, wearing that long braid in her hair. He missed the girl with the braid, his hunting partner, his best friend. His whole being yearned for her yet he had no way of resolving it. Well, there was one way, although it wasn't the most desirable way of solving your problems. It would have to do for tonight.

He tucked her picture into his shirt pocket and then left for a bar down the street. He had been going there enough in the past 12 years that the employees knew him quite well. It was barely a minute before a glass of brown liquid is resting before him.

"Another long day?" the female bartender asks him. Her name is Solaris and she's been working at this establishment for the past two years.

"Long life." he says with a sigh.

"Long life?" she says with a laugh. "You can't be older than 35."

"32."

"You have a lot more life ahead of you."

"Yeah." he mutters. Her smile fades and she can tell he's not willing to be playful tonight.

"You ever going to tell me what it is?" she asks in all seriousness. He hasn't let her know the whole story about Katniss. He tries his best to hide that fact that he even knew her to the people here.

"It's a girl…a girl I lost a long time ago."

"Dead?" she asks.

"Might as well be."

"What happened?"

"You remember the revolution…no of course not. You would have been too young."

"I was 7. I remember enough of it." she corrects him.

"The day the Districts attacked the Capitol. That's the day I lost her."

"But you said she's still alive."

"She is; safe and alive back in her district. It is was the events of the last day that ended everything." he says as he grabs the bottle of the whiskey from the counter and takes two quick shots. "You remember that bomb that dropped in the square in front of Snow's mansion?" She nods. "Well I designed that bomb. I had no idea it would be used the way Coin intended. I expected it to be used on soldiers, not children."

"I still don't understand." she murmurs.

"Her sister was in that square when it dropped. Blew her to bits." he wrenches as tears fall down his face. "After that, she would never forgive me for that. Even after 12 years and helping to rebuild this country to make it a safe place, she won't even talk to me."

"Why not?"

"She's stubborn as hell. Good quality to have when leading a revolution. Not so much when it comes to forgiving."

"Katniss Everdeen!" the bartender gasps. This doesn't surprise him that she figured it out. Everyone knows her. She's in schoolbooks.

"The one and only." he says, taking another shot. "I loved that girl more than anyone ever could."

"How did you know her?"

"She was my best friend. We used to hunt together in the woods…helped our families to survive." His explanation is cut off by sound on the bell for last call. "I'll take one more."

"Don't you think you've had enough?" she asks with a grin, leaning over the bar.

"Believe me, there isn't enough booze in this world to help me forget about her."

"What are you doing after here? We could go back to my place…to talk." Solaris said, placing her hand over his.

"You're way too young for me." he grumbles with a drunken smirk. Gale takes his last swig and settles his tab before wandering out into the dark. Luckily for him, he didn't have far to go. He stumbled to his building, into the elevator and made his way back to his apartment. Once inside, he removed his jacket, pants, and shoes before climbing into bed. He pulled her photo out of his shirt pocket before unbuttoning it and discarding it on the floor. He stared at her full lips and her soft gray eyes. His heart yearned for her.

"Catnip." he whispered as tears found their way to his eyes once again. "Katniss, I love you…and I wish you could forgive me." he choked out, as if he was really talking to her. He felt the sudden urge to get the words out…to finally tell her everything. It was too late to talk her and he knew she would disapprove of his drunkenness. He'd have to rely on the written word to express what he was feeling. He fell out of bed and crawled to the desk in his room, gathering some paper and a pen. He started furiously writing, the words spilling onto the page with ease in his drunken stupor. Every feeling he'd ever had for her was transcribed, detailing how his love for her came to be, how he's still madly in love with her, and how he'd like nothing more for them to get past the events of the war.

When he was finished writing, he sealed it in an envelope and addressed it to her. He carried the bottle of whiskey on his desk with him to bed. He unscrewed the cap with one hand, bringing it to his lips and chugging for a few seconds while he clutched the letter in his other hand.

"Tomorrow I'll mail this to her. She'll have to understand." he told herself. He finished the bottle before passing out, all alone in the Capitol.

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**Any feedback is always appreciated. What do you think will happen next?**


End file.
